next saturday?

i believe we are having a garage sale on saturday next... which is january 24th.

i have heard tell, however, that some people have plans on that day. in any case, we are going to start early in the morning and hopefully be done by lunchtime. let either me or sayo know if you can make it! =]

even if you can't make it, try to bring stuffs for us to sell. so we can make oodles of money. and use the money to spend on our rings! =] yay! (or pocketwatches or whatever)

we need to have an actual planning day tho, like the who (is coming/working/bringing stuff to sell), what (are we selling and are we doing with the money), when (...what time to what time), where (i think ashley volunteered her house without asking yet...), and we all know the why. =]

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newho...

yesterday john and i hung out. he bought me these two packets of gum at a car wash.

that's one of them

and that's the other one. the back of the birthcontrol gum has funny directions/warning on the back.

i dont know what to do with them. like.. what if my parents see? lol.

I Chop Some Parsley While Listening To Art Blakey's Version Of "Three Blind Mice"

And I start wondering how they came to be blind.

If it was congenital, they could be brothers and sister,

and I think of the poor mother

brooding over her sightless young triplets.

Or was it a common accident, all three caught

in a searing explosion, a firework perhaps?

If not,

if each came to his or her blindness separately,

how did they ever manage to find one another?

Would it not be difficult for a blind mouse

to locate even one fellow mouse with vision

let alone two other blind ones?

And how, in their tiny darkness,

could they possibly have run after a farmer's wife

or anyone else's wife for that matter?

Not to mention why.

Just so she could cut off their tails

with a carving knife, is the cynic's answer,

but the thought of them without eyes

and now without tails to trail through the moist grass

or slip around the corner of a baseboard

has the cynic who always lounges within me

up off his couch and at the window

trying to hide the rising softness that he feels.

By now I am on to dicing an onion

which might account for the wet stinging

in my own eyes, though Freddie Hubbard's

mournful trumpet on "Blue Moon,"

which happens to be the next cut,

cannot be said to be making matters any better.

Billy Collins

i love billy collins